


Sugar and the Prelude to Bribery

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Lisa, Coffee, Community: femslashficlets, Customer Jessica, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Pre-Slash, Romance, Routine, Supernatural Femslash Bingo, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are five memories of the blonde she holds to: her smile, her expression, her gaze, her handwriting and her icicle fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar and the Prelude to Bribery

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Femslash Bingo for the prompt ‘Coffee Shop AU.’ 
> 
> Also written for femslashficlets for prompt #030 (remainder) for the previous prompt #022 (five things). 
> 
> So I’m usually not one for Coffee Shop AUs, but writing this was kind of awesome.

1)

There she is, the girl in the blonde hair. The one with the freckles and the bright eyes and always orders just a coffee.

No cream and no sugar please. No muss, no fuss, no latte or frappuccino or double shot of espresso. Just a coffee.

Her smile a bright curve in Lisa's life.

 

2)

There is still good in the world. After today’s order, the blonde’s finger brushing against Lisa’s, the way her hand curls around her steaming paper cup. She lingers at the cream and sugar stand _always_ , emptying precisely one-third of a packet of sugar into her cup. She blows on the liquid before replacing the lid. Lisa watches her lips pucker and part.

She always watches for too long, half the time messes up her order. One small iced skinny mocha, two cappuccinos, one hot hazelnut latte with a double shot of espresso and extra whip - or was it without the whip? The blonde looks up as someone behind Lisa grinds the coffee beans delivered this morning.

She catches Lisa’s eye, pulls a beanie over her hair and watches the dark-haired barista (her) mischievously as she exits the coffee shop.

Lisa completely stops whatever she was doing until her eyes can no longer follow her boots and scarf outside the window.

 

3)

There are times where Lisa wonders whether she’s stuck in some sort of dream. If not a dream then a time loop because she can never stop staring, never snap herself out of it. The same hair, the same order, the same lingering, fingers pinching a sugar packet and flicking it back and forth to get the sugar to drop to the bottom of the paper package. It’s such a mundane thing, but the blonde draws it out, makes Lisa want to wrench that packet from her hand and swallow its entire contents, not just a measly portion.

She doesn’t, she stands there, that’s her job. There are many requirements of this simple, routine job, but standing there while this is going on is the hardest of all. Lisa comes to ask ‘the usual?,’ comes to accept that the blonde isn’t disturbed by her staring or her stuttering or that Lisa knows she knows that her order is always the one she never screws up. It’s not intentional really, just pure dumb luck.

Still, pure.

“I'll take a french vanilla latte today. Iced please.” No easy on the whip, trying to keep my figure. No explanation. No _damned_ explanation.

Lisa blinks. But her order is already _done_. The coffee is burning through her skin, something she’s used to. The blonde winks.

 

4)

“What's your name?”

One bright blonde curl pokes out from underneath her beanie. Lisa turns away from her previous order, reaching into the case beneath her blindly for a pumpkin scone. The smell of ground coffee beans is sharp in her nose, but the blonde towering above her, scarf twisted around her neck, is the sharpest point of Lisa's day.

Lisa realizes her name is printed clearly on her name tag. Large, easy for everyone to read. She took the effort to ask.

There's a line behind her and there’s that damned scone still in her hand, but in that moment it’s clear neither one of them care. Not about this shop, not about this world, not about their measly or exciting little lives. There is only the other. There is not even the coffee anymore, the aroma haunting her into her dreams, the headaches molding permanent lines in her forehead.

What the hell? Be the good associate. Except it’s not _quite_ about that. “I'm Lisa.” She pushes a wayward strand of jet black hair out of her eye.

She hands the scone to the person in front of the blonde. And she orders, like Lisa said nothing at all, but there are hands stuffed in the back pockets of her jeans and she leans forward, over the counter, appearing excited about something.

Lisa hides her smirk.

When the line dies down some, she realizes there is a one-third empty sugar packet on the counter directly in front of her. With numbers scribbled beautifully across the brand name and a smiley face.

Lisa nibbles on the remaining sugar as she hums along to the coffeehouse music playing above her head.

 

5)

There Lisa is, cleaning the tables down with a damp rag twenty minutes before the shop opens. She’s already double checked the cases to make sure they're stocked full with all manner of pastries, extra on the pumpkin scones. The coffee beans are already ground and the soup of the day is announced on the board outside. Maybe she can sneak a coffee before she opens the doors for the day.

There’s a knock on the glass. Irritated, Lisa turns around to tell the kid off, maybe show him her pretty little finger.

The blonde’s peeking in, hands cupping around the heavily fingerprinted glass. She knocks on the glass one more time, motions with her head down to a large piece of paper she’s holding. It reads: I’m Jessica. The kiss blown to Lisa is the best part of all.

Lisa rolls her eyes, unclenches her hand from the rag and goes to the door to tell the customer the store is still not open for - she checks her watch - another fifteen minutes.

Of course, that's merely protocol.

“I can be bribed with coffee,” Lisa tells her as she unlocks the door and lets Jessica inside, away from the chill. It’s nice when it’s empty, nice and quiet, but Lisa doesn't mind a view other than the street for a change.

Jessica trades her scarf for Lisa’s, wrapping her own around Lisa's neck tightly. Her fingers are like icicles, coaxing back to life Lisa’s still soul.

“Good to know.”

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, I can totally be bribed with french fries.


End file.
